


Drarry Head Cannons and Short Stories

by didnt_survive_twist_and_shout



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-08 13:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 11,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17387477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/didnt_survive_twist_and_shout/pseuds/didnt_survive_twist_and_shout
Summary: Drarry Head Cannons that I come up with.If it's not mine, I will say who gave it to me.Short stories will be mine unless I say so.





	1. Boggarts

Draco felt his chest tighten. He was up next for the boggart, and he didn’t think Remus Lupin was going to let him out of it. They’d done it before, but they were now continuing it, and Draco felt his fear creep up. Of course, he kept that impassive sneer on his face. 

Crabbe, who was in front of him, banished his boggart, and Draco realized it was his turn. He took a small step forward, and he  _felt_  the class go silent. The boggart turned, and he knew it was gouging his fears. Voldemort flashed in his mind. Then Lucius, and then none other than Fenir Greyback. He saw Lupin take a step forward, and the boggart seemed to choose its form.

_It can’t hurt you. It wont matter_ , Draco thought. His eyes widened as the boggart took form of Harry Potter. It stood for a moment, before cocking it’s head, and Draco could see the pure loathing and hatred in his eyes. Draco took a sharp breath. 

_“No,”_ he whispered. “Oh, yes,” Harry’s voice rang out, _but it wasn’t Harry. It was just the boggart,_  Draco thought. Boggart Harry shook his head, taking a step forward. “Why would you ever think I could love you?” Boggart Harry asked. Draco just shook his head, his hands trembling. “Why would I love filth like you? Your just like your father. You are nothing. You have always been nothing,” Draco whimpered at the boggarts words, and he dropped his wand.

He heard it roll across the floor, and the boggart took another step forward. Draco blanched, and the boggart took Draco’s face in his hands, “I could never love you. You repel me,” Boggart Harry whispered, but the words echoed around the room. Draco felt tears sting his eyes. 

Suddenly the boggart changed, and instead a full moon surround by dark clouds. 

“Riddikulus,” Lupin’s voice sounded, but Draco stayed frozen, watching the boggart moon slip back into the wardrobe. 

“Class dismissed. Everyone gather your things and go.” No one made a noise as they each gathered their bags and made their way out of the classroom. Draco knew he was shaking, he knew he should be moving, brushing it off like it was nothing…

But it wasn’t nothing. It was  _everything_. It was out there now. That he loved Harry Potter. But what was worse…was being told he didn’t matter, that Harry would never take him. 

“Draco?” the voice rang through Draco’s head, and Draco closed his eyes. He felt some tears slip, and he bit his bottom lip. 

“Go away,” his voice was thick, and he cursed himself. He felt a hand on his wrist, and he let himself be turned, because it was no use pulling against Harry. Not now dammit. But Draco kept his eyes closed. “I don’t hate you,” Harry’s voice was soft. Draco released a sharp breath. He felt warm hands cup his face, and he leaned into the palm of one. 

_This isn’t real_ , he told himself. “I don’t hate you.” Harry whispered. Draco could feel Harry’s breath. Draco jumped the moment he felt the light brush of lips on his own.  _This isn’t real_ , he said again.  _Just your mind playing tricks_. 

And the lips pressed harder, and Draco could feel his own desperation coming off in waves. Draco tangled his fingers in the hair of Harry.  _This was real_ , he thought.  _This was actually happening_. Draco felt his pain ebb away, and he sighed against Harry’s mouth. 

Then Harry pulled away slightly, and Draco’s eyes snapped open. Harry was a couple inches away, but Draco could see his hair had reached full ‘Fucked up’. A small smile touched Draco’s face, and Harry leaned forward, kissing the edge of his mouth, and then resting his forehead against Draco’s.  Draco tilted his head slightly, but Harry pulled away, only their breaths mingling. Draco swallowed, and ran his fingers down Harry’s side, and he felt Harry shudder. Draco’s fingers reached the hem of Harry’s shirt, and Draco pulled slightly, and was glad when his fingers could reach the skin just above his trousers on his right side. Another shiver went through Harry, and then Harry’s lips was firmly pressing against Draco’s. 

Draco opened his mouth, and Harry’s tongue darted inside. Draco tightened his fingers around Harry’s hip, digging his nails in. Harry groaned, and Draco pulled the other boy against him, and Draco gasped when he felt the erection in Harry’s pants. Heat was already pooling in Draco’s stomach. Harry caught Draco’s bottom lip between his teeth, and Draco groaned, pressing into Harry, and was awarded with a groan from Harry as he backed himself into one of the white-beige walls. Draco moved his lips from Harry’s (as soon as the other boy let go of his mouth) and moved them and his tongue down Harry’s jaw, and onto his neck. 

Draco bit and licked, savoring at how, just a minute-minutes?-ago, boggart Harry had been telling him real Harry didn’t want him. He bit softly right below Harry’s earlobe, and Draco could feel the other boy physically keep himself up. 

“I hope you boys do decide to leave me classroom soon. I do teach other students you know?” a deep voice sounded from behind Draco, and he jumped away from Harry. 

“P-professor Lupin I-” 

“Please don’t try to explain, Mister Malfoy. I think it would only embarrass both of you.” Both Harry and Draco were silent, and both had flaming red cheeks. 

“Remember, I was once a Hogwarts student too.” Draco started. “Professor Lupin?” Draco asked. He saw as Lupin looked up at him.

“Well you see, my father went to school with you and-”

“Lucius Malfoy, correct?” Lupin asked. Even though Draco already knew that Remus Lupin knew who his father was, Draco nodded and continued, “Well, he said you were a Prefect and Head-boy, so I don’t see you doing something like…like this,” Draco finished, and he glanced at Harry, who was biting his bottom lip, and Draco felt the heat in his stomach again. 

“When I was a Prefect and Head-boy,lets just say I always had a…serious problem,” Draco saw the ghost of a smile pass over Lupin’s face.

“What could have been so serious you risked being a Prefect and Head-boy?” Harry’s voice sounded, and Draco could see the pain and guilt in Lupin’s eyes when Harry asked, but it was gone in a flash. “I was love,” the professor said, leaning against his desk. 

“You  _were_?” Draco asked. Lupin nodded. “He was reckless and stupid. But he was mine, and that’s what mattered. He didn’t have a very well liked last name, so he wasn’t very…well, like I said, he was very  _serious_  all the time about certain things.” Draco could hear him stress the word serious…Draco’s mind wandered. 

Not a very well liked name? That left pure-bloods. And Lupin had stressed the word serious…

Draco’s head snapped up, a small gasp escaping his mouth. Lupin looked to him, the pain and guilt still there, and gave a small nod. 

“You were love…that’s why everything happened?” Draco asked. Lupin nodded. “What happened?” Harry asked.

Draco thought for a moment. 

“Why he became the Dark Arts teacher,” Draco answered

Harry smiled, and shook his head, “The jobs cursed.”

Draco answered, “Maybe, Potter. We’ll just have to see if our beloved Lupin stays.” he say Lupin shake his head. 

“Get out you two, and be careful,” Draco nodded and took Harry’s hand, leading him from the classroom.

Maybe boggarts weren’t so bad. Maybe all he needed was that push. Maybe…maybe he was love.

He’d have to wait and find out. Draco curled his fingers against Harry’s, and sighed when Harry squeezed his hand. And they walked in silence, to Draco’s common room, where Harry pulled him into a dizzying kiss, before letting him go, and walking off to his own dormitory. And as Draco was lying in his bed, he though about what could happen

Maybe he could be happy.

And for once, Draco slept through the night.

 

 


	2. Drarry Head Cannon #1

Harry and Draco always staring at each other during breakfast or lunch or dinner in the Great Hall, but  _somehow_  they never catch each other.

Until one day, since it had become such a normal thing for them to do, to see if the other is there…

And they lock eyes.

And both look away after a moment, blushing furiously, their friends asking questions about why.

Both lying and saying it’s nothing, but after that, they catch each other’s eyes more often….


	3. Drarry Head Cannon #2

-Draco gets cold really easy, so he owns a whole bunch of socks

-Draco hogs the blanket at night

-Draco steals Harry's jumpers when he thinks Harry's not paying attention

-Harry knowing and not saying anything because he loves how they look on Draco

-Harry _loves_ it when Draco plays with his hair

-Even though they are together, Draco still uses stupidly (smooth) pick-up lines on Harry

-Draco's favorite smell is Harry

-Harry is the only one who can touch Draco's hair

 


	4. Mirror of Erised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to do a Mirror of Erised one.
> 
> Love you all.
> 
> -E

Harry and Draco had been talking a lot lately. They had accidentally gotten close over the short period of four weeks. Draco knew all about Harry's life with the Dursley's (And had even tried to apparate to where they lived at the moment).

Draco knew how Harry had been able to talk to snaked, and how, sometimes, he still could. Draco knew how the Sorting Hat had wanted Harry in Slytherin. And Draco had comforted Harry by telling him he was a better Gryffindor. Draco knew how Sirius Black was Harry's Godfather, and he knew how much Remus Lupin meant to Harry.

Draco knew almost everything there _was_  to know about Harry. 

They had been walking around the castle for a couple hours, neither able to sleep much anymore.

They had accidentally bustled into an empty room. At least, that's what Draco thought at first. And then he had seen it: a large mirror with Latin words. But Draco was rusty with his Latin, and he couldn't translate it.

It _had_ to be Latin.

And Potter had just stood there, watching Draco approach the mirror. He had stood right in front and looked in. He had expected something extravagant, but he only saw his reflection, and the reflection of Harry standing a ways back.

He watched as Harry stepped forward, and next to him. Draco looked to his side, thinking he'd see Harry looking at the mirror, expecting the same, but Harry had been watching him.

So Draco had turned back to the mirror, looking at it blankly.

"What do you see?" Harry whispered, and Draco turned to him, his brows furrowed. 

"What do you mean, Potter? It's just a normal mirror," he answered, and Harry's eyes widened. "What?" Draco had bit out, and Harry had shook his head.

"Draco," Harry's voice broke a bit, "This is the Mirror Of Erised," Harry stated.

"And I'm supposed to know that name...why?" Draco asked. Harry had gone red, and then looked at the mirror. A soft smile had touched his lips, and Draco's stomach had twisted.

"The Mirror Of Erised. Nobody knows who created it. It was in the Room of Requirement for a century or so before Dumbledore brought it out in out first year. The mirror’s inscription," Harry pointed to the words etched on the top of the mirror: erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi, "It must be read backwards to show its true purpose. It shows your deepest yearning, your darkest desire..." Harry had trailed off, and Draco's stomach had sunk.

He looked back at the mirror, wide eyed, and still, he only saw himself and Harry. He glanced back and forth, and then noticed one small difference.

The him in the mirror was holding hands with the Harry in the mirror.

Draco had voice this, quietly, and after a couple moment, he had turned to Harry.

Only to have his mouth crushed against the other mans.

And that's how they got here: Lying together in the four poster bed that was Harry's.

 _Together_.

Draco's heart swelled, and he turned his head, kissing the top of Harry's head, and it was buried in Draco's neck. 

This was going to be a good thing. Harry was his, and he was indefinitely Harry's.

He silently thanked whoever had put the mirror there, and closed his eyes, inhaling the smell of the man beside him, before falling into a peaceful sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Draco's Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story is not mine.

Harry can't stop staring. His breakfast is forgotten. Malfoy's hair is blue.

"Harry! Harry? What are you-?"

"Malfoy," Harry answers Hermione without looking away.

Ron pauses mid way through a mouth full of potato, "What?"

"Malfoy," Harry explains again, "He - look what he did."

Hermione's eyes remained fixed on Harry. "Don't you think you need to stop obsessing over him? The war is over. We're all on the same side."

"No, look what he did to his hair!" Harry all but shouts. MALFOY'S HAIR IS BLUE.

Hermione and Ron finally follow Harry's gaze to the Slytherin table to Draco Malfoy, blue hair and all.

"Blood Hell."

"That is suprising," Hermione admits.

"Maybe some one cursed him?" Ron suggests.

"I hope not," Hermione frowns. "Like he doesn't have enough to deal with - his mother is being retired this week."

Harry's chest constricts, "That's this week?"

"Yes, Harry. I thought you were the one stalking him?"

"Well he had been sadder than usual. He's been eating cereal since last Friday which is odd as he almost always goes for - what?" Harry stops at the look Hermione and Ron are giving him.

Hermione shakes her head. "I was being facetious, Harry. I can't believe you're stalking him again."

"I'm not stalking," Harry clarifies, focusing his attention solely on Hermione and Ron to prove his point. Which is difficult when MALFOY'S HAIR IS BLUE. "I'm just observant."

Hermione smiles wickedly and Harry already knows he's tuffed before she opens her mouth, "Okay, then what do I usually eat for breakfast?" 

Harry tries to eye her plate discreetly but she already has her hand covering it up. He desperately tries to remember what she'd been eating only seconds earlier. "Uh...uh..."

"That's what I thought."

"I'm not stalking Malfoy," Harry tries again.

Ron sniggers into his morning omlette. "Sure, mate."

Hermione rests her head in her hands - revealing her breakfast of poached eggs. "Why don't you go over there and ask him?"

"Ask him what?"

Hermione closes her eyes in obvious exasperation, _"Why his hair is blue."_

"I can't -" 

"Mate, just go," interrupts Ron, now with a mouthful of tomato. "Your going to be like this all day if you don't."

-

Malfoy looks up in surprise as Harry approaches, his cereal spoon hovering above his bowl. “Potter?”

“Malfoy.” Harry nods. He tries not to stare so openly at Malfoy’s hair but…it’s BLUE.

Malfoy drops his spoon and pushes the cereal away. He stares at Harry suspiciously. “Are you lost?”

“No, I – why is your hair blue?” Harry blurts out, unable to hold it in any longer.

One of Malfoy’s hands automatically jumps to his hair, as if he’d forgotten the colour for a moment. After the initial surprise, Malfoy’s turns defensive. “You got a problem with it?” He asks.

“No, not at all. It’s just – never mind. Forget I asked.” What was he thinking? What were Hermione and Ron thinking sending him over here? He turns to leave.

“it’s poetic, Potter.”

Harry turns back to Malfoy. “Poetic?”

Malfoy shrugs, and looks down into his cereal bowl. “I’m feeling blue. I dyed my hair to match. It made sense last night after the second bottle of firewhiskey.”

Harry considers this. “Your mother?” He asks, softly.

“Yes,” Malfoy says into his cereal.

“Do you – I mean, would you – would it help if I came with you?” Oh Merlin, did Harry really just say that?

Malfoy looks up, sharply. “Why would you want to do that?”

Harry feels his cheeks reddening. “Your mother saved my life,” he offers, which is true at least, but only a small part of his real motivation.

“Of course,” Malfoy says with a polite nod. Is Harry reading into it or does he seem…disappointed?

“And you might need…support.”

A small smile plays on the corner of Malfoy’s mouth. “I have friends, Potter.”

“Right, I didn’t mean to say – it’s just – I’d like to be there. For both of you.”

Malfoy tilts his head and looks Harry over with a curious gaze. This only makes Harry blush harder.

“Okay,” Malfoy finally says, “You can come.” He picks up his spoon and returns his attention to his cereal.

- 

Harry can’t stop staring. His breakfast is forgotten. Malfoy’s hair is green.

“Go ask him, already.”

-

Malfoy looks up. This time he doesn’t seem surprised. “Potter. What brings you here?”

“You know what.”

Malfoy smirks. “Enlighten me.”

Harry stares at Malfoy’s hair. “Why green?”

Malfoy shrugs. “Just felt like it.”

Harry frowns. He wonders whether Malfoy’s being entirely truthful. “That’s not very poetic,” he points out.

“His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,” Malfoy whispers.

Harry blinks, processing. “What?”

“His hair is as dark as a blackboard. I wish he was mine, he’s really divine, the hero who conquered the Dark Lord,” Malfoy continues with a shy smile. “Poetic enough for you?”

Harry feels himself blushing again.

“Maybe I should have gone pink to match your face,” Malfoy suggests with a wink. Merlin, Harry might melt.

“You remembered the po – “

“I wrote the poem,” corrects Malfoy.

Harry frowns “But I always thought Ginny – “

Malfoy shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Does that mean you – that you used to – “

Malfoy interrupts with a roll of his eyes. “Like you?”

Harry gulps. “Yeah.”

“I thought that was obvious, Potter.”

Harry feels like his knees might buckle at any moment. This is really happening. He runs a hand through his hair nervously. “And now?” he asks.

Malfoy raises his eyebrows, a playful smirk on his lips. “I thought that was also obvious, Harry.”            

And just to be an infuriating bastard, Malfoy chooses this moment to dust himself off and leave the Great Hall, with one last wink at Harry.

Harry wants to follow but he thinks his legs may have turned into jelly. He has to grip the table tightly just to keep himself standing.

- 

Harry can’t stop staring. Breakfast never stood a chance.  Malfoy’s hair is pink.

He doesn’t even bother to take a seat at his own table, instead heading straight over to the Slytherin side of the Great Hall.

Malfoy watches him as he approaches with a smug smile. “Pot – “

Harry interrupts by leaning down and smashing his mouth onto Malfoy’s, his hands reaching out to finally run through that gorgeous hair. The entire Great Hall is watching and Harry’s face is on fire, but none of that matters, because Draco Malfoy is kissing him back.

And his hair is bloody pink.


	6. Verbal

"Draco, I'd rather have my trousers on when Pansy and Blaise arrive for lunch."

"It's your own bloody fault for looking so delicious when you're just out of the shower. It really should be illegal to have an arse like yours."

"Mmphh...Draco..."

"What? Less talking, more snogging, Potter. We've got twelve minutes. That's more than enough time for me to thoroughly take advantage of you."

"Well, I suppose there's no sense putting on some trousers if they're just coming right off again...."


	7. Drarry Head Cannon # 3

\- Cute ass arguments

\- Sexual Tension

\- Sneaking kisses

\- Harry speaking in Parseltongue to turn Draco on

\- Little snide remarks that end up in full snogging sessions

\- fOrEhEaD kIsSeS

\- One sneaking into the other's dorm room so they can cuddle

\- Talking each other through past problems

\- Draco covering his dark mark with flower tattoos after Harry remarks how his mother is named after a flower

\- Harry getting some kind of tattoo (moving, and from Luna of course) that is somehow dedicated to dragon (Draco)

\- sPoOnInG

\- Sweet talks after one has a panic attack

\- Using the "Scared, Potter?" "You wish" in everyday conversations

\- Fighting over last names

\- Draco acting all tough, but when it's just Harry, he's himself, fully

\- Same goes for Harry


	8. Chapter 8

I only have seven of these........I don't even know if I want to continue....

 

If you really want me to continue these comment that......if not, I'm just going to stop doing my little drarry time....


	9. Head canon #4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *This one I do not own*

Harry likes to tease Draco that his clothes are too expensive and fussy and that he prefers his worn jeans and t-shirts just fine thank you very much. He likes Draco’s clothes but he likes them on Draco (or not on if you will).

And it’s true. Mostly.

Except sometimes Draco works late. And sometimes Harry forgets to do the laundry until the clothing bin in the corner is overflowing and when these two events intersect he thinks nothing o moving to Draco’s wardrobe to find something to wear.

It takes him awhile because Draco’s trousers are all so much fancier than the jeans he usually favors and most of his shirts are button down. But in the back his fingers connect with Draco’s favorite grey jumper. Harry’s always loved the way it makes Draco look softer somehow, the coloring lessening the sharpness in his eyes. Harry also likes the way it feels beneath his hands when he’s got Draco pinned beneath him.

So he gravitated towards it pulling it on over his head for the first time, surprised at the way it fits his body as if it were his own. The material is soft against his skin and still has the lingering scent of Draco’s posh cologne. Then he grabs a pair of his trousers and pulls them on, letting them out a bit in the thighs with a quietly muttered charm.

Harry looks in the mirror and likes what he sees. Not that he disliked it before but there’s something striking about his appearance. He looks put together, the clothes fitting much better than his own even.

The only person who likes how Harry looks in them even more is Draco.

In fact he likes it so much it’s not long before all the clothing is on the floor, date night forgotten in favor of the heady taste of skin and bitten back moans.


	10. Head Canon #5

Draco loves tea. It’s what he grew up with. It’s the tradition and culture of tea, it’s what you serve when guests come over. It would be ingrained in Draco from a young age. In school it was his comfort, the one thing he could rely on that was always constant in a world that had shifted off its axis. Tea could always be relied on to be perfectly predictable. That’s why, even when he shed all other connections to his family name, and all its history and pain, after the war he could never get rid if tea. It stayed with him when everything changed, when he changed.

Harry drinks coffee, though. All he had growing up with the Dursleys was very weak tea. They would only give him the dregs from their bags after they were finished, and sometimes he would have to steal them to even get that. He didn’t enjoy it but sometimes it was all he would consume in a day so he got by on it. Once Harry had options and choices and variety he tried anything and everything he could. He liked that coffee could always be something different. All the syrups and add-ons, the ways of preparation that would alter the taste, the sheer variety of beans themselves, made his head spin with joy. It allowed him to be as adventurous as he dared while being contained to a small cup, (a welcome change after his school years–contained adventure is all he wants now). Harry learns about the different flavor profiles of regional beans, how to roast, the different tools used. One whole quarter of his kitchen looks like a better Starbucks than starbucks with all the equipment he has. Coffee is freedom to Harry.


	11. Verbal

**Harry:**  [comes home late from work]

 **Draco:**  You’re late, sleep on the couch

 **Harry:**  But-

 **Draco:**  GO!

 **Harry:**  [sits in the living room]

***5 minutes later***

**Draco:**  [comes in the living room] Wow. So, you’re really going to sleep on the couch when I’ve missed you all day? I’m offended


	12. Head Canon #6

When Harry and Draco’s relationship becomes known to the public, Harry hides from the reporters because he hates them after the war just as much as he did before (if not more). But Draco works at the Ministry and can’t really avoid the Prophet and is actually used to being assaulted by journalists (redeemed ex-Death Eaters usually are) so he gets the brunt of it. 

And he  _fucking loves it._

Interviewers ask him about his new boyfriend Harry Potter and Draco just looks at the camera genuinely confused and says, “Merry Spotter?”

“Harry Potter,” the journalist corrects. “The Boy Who Lived?” 

“The Bird Who Licked?” Draco says, eyes innocent but his lips curling into a small smug smile.

“Harry Potter, The Chosen One!” another interviewer snaps, annoyed, her quill flicking irritated in the air.

“The Frozen Bun?” Draco asks with a shit-eating smile and can’t wait until he gets home so he and Harry can come up with some new names.

They have a whole list.


	13. Quidditch

# The dream starts off simple, like it always did.

In the dream, they are in 5th year, before everything went to hell. Him and Harry, curled up on one of the fluffy carpets in the room of requirement. Harry was laughing, messy hair and rumpled sweaters, his tie undone and the buttons opened on his shirt. Draco sits there too, watching the fire and the shadows and the boy lying next to him, listening to him talk about everything and nothing all at once.

It had been a lazy afternoon, and they had spent the entire night and a good chunk of the day just talking and laughing and kissing. They lay there now, watching the sun trace patterns over the wooden walls, streaks of gold and bronze and amber.

Draco wonders, just for a moment, if this was how life would be if they were still together when they left Hogwarts.

He chases the thought from his head, the thought of the war and the death eaters and Voldemort hanging over them. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that everyone would be fine, that they could escape without some sort of consequence. No, he knew that their luck was running out, that it was all borrowed time anyways.

But by God, he would enjoy it while it lasted.

He reaches over, laces his hands through Harry’s, content to just lie there next to him while the day turned to night. Harry smiled, pressing his face to Draco’s neck, and they lay there for a while, breathing each other in.

The setting sun had turned the whole room gold when Harry speaks. His voice was muffled, his lips moving against Draco’s neck, as he says, “God, I wish it could be like this all the time.”

Draco freezes, just for a moment, as he marvels at how alike him and Harry were. He reaches over, smoothing the hair from Harry’s face. “Yeah. Me too.”

The silence stretches again, comfortable and warm, and Draco smiles, seeing Harry snuggled up next to him. Harry reaches over, interlocking their fingers as he whispers, “Can I…can I tell someone? About us?”

It’s as if someone poured ice-cold water on top of him. Draco feels his stomach clench, his mouth go dry as he swallows carefully. “What do you mean?”

Harry glances up, eyes narrowing in concern. “It’d only be Ron and Hermione…” He trails off, noticing the look on Draco’s face. “Why? Are you…do you not want anyone to know? Is it…. is it me?”

Harry’s face is calm, but Draco knows better. Draco has spent hours examining that face, those emerald eyes and ebony hair and that streak of angry red through his head. He sees the hurt in Harry’s eyes, and he feels panic uncurl in his stomach, because he has to make Harry see. “No! No, I’m fine! It’s… I’m…” He stumbles, tripping over the words, desperation filling his voice. “Look, Harry. I…” Draco curses.

“Fuck it. Harry, I love you. I love you so damn much that there is nothing I wouldn’t do to save you. Nothing. And that terrifies me. Because I know that if Voldemort got you…if anybody captured you…there’s…there’s nothing that could stop me from tearing the world apart to save you.” He looks up, into Harry’s eyes. “And if people knew that…that that’s what I felt…what’s to stop them from capturing you to force me to do something?”

Harry’s eyes are dark, thunderstorms and lightning and clouds. Draco stares into them, and suddenly, he knows that Harry would do the same, that he would tear the world open to save Draco. The thought terrified him, how similar they were, and he exhales slowly. “Don’t you see? If people knew -“

Harry cuts him off. “Yeah. I know, Draco. I know.” He lies back down, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder once again. “It’s fine. We’ll wait. After the war’s over, someday we’ll tell everyone.”

Draco can feel Harry’s lips curling into a smile as he pulls Harry into a kiss. “Someday…”

Draco wakes with a bolt. For a moment, his heart aches, the feeling of Harry’s head on his shoulder a phantom weight. It was a long time ago, those two boys, and he wasn’t sure where any of them were now. He rubs his neck, wincing at the sore muscles and glances at the clock.

He jumps out of bed, swearing. The Quidditch match was today, Gryffindor and Slytherin, and he was supposed to be down there 10 minutes ago.

Draco races down the corridor, past the Great Hall, and sprints outside. He passes the Greenhouse, and for a moment he smiles, his hand brushing his lips as he remembers kissing Harry there a week ago. He had thought, naively, that one kiss would be enough, that it would be like the old times.

He was wrong.

They both had scars, the two of them. Harry still woke up screaming sometimes, for someone named Sirius and Fred and Lupin. On those nights, all Draco could do was hold him, brushing kisses to his forehead until the night turned to day and Harry stopped crying.

Harry had to do the same as well, when the darkness of the room looked like the darkness of that cellar, and the familiar numbness turned his body to ice. Yes, they both had scars, and it would take a damn long time to mend.

He shakes his head, sprinting down, onto the Quidditch Pitch and into the change rooms. For a heartbeat, the cheers of the crowd sounded like the screams of the muggles, and Draco’s heart clenched before he forced the memory away.

He strides into the change room, ignoring the questions, and grabs his robes. He heads into a stall, locking the door behind him, and starts to pull the robes over his head. He knows not to change in public now, knows the glares and the sneers that filled people’s faces when they saw the scars and the burns and that Dark Mark.

He shakes the thought, pulling up that smirk onto his face from deep inside of him, and steps outside. He grabs his broom, the weight familiar, as his team steps onto the Quidditch Field.

He sees the Gryffindor team, scarlet and crimso and gold, sees Harry standing tall and he smiles bitterly. They both had their roles to play - Harry the Savior and Hero and Draco the Arrogant Prince. He scoffs slightly, before striding across the pitch to shake Harry’s hand.

Harry’s palm is soft, warm, and Draco squeezes it slightly before letting go. He turns his back, heading back to his team and mounts his broom.

When the whistle blows, he’s up, the wind in his hair and the sun in his eyes. It’s always been like this, the freedom that only comes with being so high up, and he swoops low, skimming the ground with his toes before shooting up into the clouds.

He glances around, looking for that familiar glint of gold, and he flies down. The air is cool and clear and he sucks in a breath, letting the cleanliness erase the stain of the past few years from his mind.

A blur of movement catches his eye, and he whirls, his gaze falling on that tiny gold speck near the middle of the court. Draco accelerates, his broom vibrating as he speeds towards the Snitch. Out of the corner of his vision, he sees another figure, one of red moving towards the Snitch as well. Draco laughs, moving faster, lighter then he has been for a while as he thrusts his hand out to grab the Snitch. Harry reaches out too, at the same time, and Draco smirks as they both catch the Snitch, trapping it between their two hands.

For a moment, time slows, and Draco stares at Harry. Harry’s face is flushed, his hair messy and his glasses askew, eyes shining and robes fluttering. He looked so young, still whole and invincible and immortal, and Draco smiles, pulling Harry closer.

He hears Harry catch his breath, the air between them warm as Harry whispers, “Draco…you sure?”

And maybe they are both young, maybe they are both reckless, maybe they are just too broken to ever mend. But they’ve survived a war, lasted this long, and so Draco smiles, pulling Harry closer, until they are pressed up against each other. “I’ve never been so damn sure in my entire life.”

Then they are kissing, in front of everyone, the Snitch beating like a tiny heart beat between them, and Draco feels Harry smiling against his lips as he brings them closer. Their hands are still locked together, and Draco reaches up with his free hand, tangling it in Harry’s hair. He knots his finger in it, the strands of onyx and ebony and midnight, pressing their bodies closer, kissing him like they had all the time in the world.

And they did, didn’t they? Him and Harry, nothing but a promise of a better world, and as the crowd erupted, Draco knew that all was well.

 

 


	14. Short story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * I do not own this one *

On the day Draco’s father was captured, Draco was numb.

They were sitting there, on top of Griffyndor Tower. The wind was sharp, cutting into Draco’s flesh as he closes his eyes against the pain. Harry was next to him, one arm wrapped around him as Draco stared without seeing at the castle below him.

They had been sitting there for hours without talking, just him and Harry, wrapped around each other as the day wore on. Harry shifts, his hand pulling Draco closer as he whispers into Draco’s ear. “Look…Draco…I…I know you. I know you are hurting inside, and I know you are trying to hide it.” He leans forwards, brushing the side of Draco’s head with his lips. “Draco, it’s fine. It’s just  _me_. I’m always here for you.  _Always_.”

The words cut deep, biting into Draco’s soul, because how could he tell him? He had everything that Harry didn’t, had a family and a home and money, and yet it wasn’t enough. How could he explain, the silence and the disapproval, the echoing halls and the ice-cold rooms? The fear of getting caught out of bed, when all he wanted was some more food? The punishments and the looks and standing in the cellar for hours on end? No, Draco could never explain what it was like, to grow up with Lucius Malfoy as a father.

He closes his eyes, anything to block out Harry’s eyes, boring into that shredded soul. Draco doesn’t recognize his own voice when he speaks. “It’s not that, Harry. It’s just…” He laughs. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

Even without looking at him, he can feel the concern dripping off of Harry, the sympathy and the compassion, and Draco want’s to scream. I _don’t deserve this_ , he thinks,  _because a true son wouldn’t be thinking this_. He runs his hands over the wooden shingles of the roof, his nail slipping on a pair of deep gouges carved into the side.  _SB + RL_. He presses his finger into the words, trying to ground himself against the emptiness inside.

Harry’s voice is soft, gentle. “It’s okay, Draco. Let it out.”

And it’s the sympathy, the empathy in those words that finally makes Draco snap. His voice sounds low and broken and bitter, shattered glass and broken bone. “Let what out, Harry? There isn’t anything to let out.” He laughs. “Goddamnit, Harry. Look at this! My father, the person who raised me has just been thrown into Azkaban, where he’ll probably die and rot within a year, and I don’t feel anything. Nothing. I really just don’t care anymore, about anyone in my screwed up family.”

He sees the question in Harry’s eyes, and he laughs again, the sound driving nails into his chest. “What do you want me to say, Harry? It was hell growing up with them. All that pure-blooded mindset and carrying on the Malfoy name.” He clenched his fist, his nails piercing into his skin as he breathes, “They didn’t care, Harry. My father never told me he loved me, never told me he was proud of me. All he ever did was sneer and tell me I wasn’t good enough. He locked me in the cellar once, for 5 hours, because I spilt my glass of water when I was 8.” Draco turns, unclenching his fists, to look Harry in the eyes. “And the thing is that I know. Goddamn it, I know. You have no one, Harry. Your parents are dead, while at least mine are still living. I should be so fucking grateful, that I have parents, family who are alive, yet I can’t even muster up the emotion to cry.” He exhales, looking down at their feet. “What does that make me?”

He feels Harry’s breath on his neck, and he turns his head. Harry’s eyes are dark, reflecting the sky above them as he whispers, “Human.”

The word drives something in him, burning through the numbness, and Draco just nods as he lets his head rest on top of Harry’s.

On the day he told Harry about his Dark Mark, Draco was pleading.

They were outside, snow swirling in the air as Draco begged Harry to listen to him. Harry’s wand was out, a barrier between them, his eyes full of disappointment as he stared at Draco. Draco was standing, cloak flying around him, as he whispers. “Harry…I…please, just  _listen_  to me.”

Harry’s voice is flat. “Listen to what, Draco? A message from Voldemort? Another excuse for swearing to kill me?” Harry’s voice shook, slightly, as he spits out, “That’s what you did, Draco. You just swore to kill me, to hurt my friends. You just swore yourself to the man who  _killed my goddamn family_!”

Draco closes his eyes. For a moment, he flashes back. He was standing in the hall, trying so hard not to shake as a long, pale hand brushed over his face. The faces in the crowd around him blurred together - his father and his mother and Bellatrix and a hundred more cloaked figures. He remembers the pain, the agony, the burning that seared his flesh and his bones. He remembers the taste of copper in his mouth, as he bit down on his lip and tried so hard not to scream. It was one of the things Voldemort’ commended him for, after the ceremony.

He opens his eyes, the world appearing in front of him again as he whispers, “I had no choice, Harry. He was going to kill me, and my family. He was going to  _torture_  them, Harry. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

For a moment, Harry seems to waver, his wand trembling slightly, but then his voice hardens, and Draco knows he’s lost. Harry’s voice is defeated, as he says, “I don’t know Draco. I just…I don’t care any more.” He glances down, at the snow and their footprint. “It doesn’t surprise me. You come from a family of death eaters, Draco. Why did I think you’d be any different?” He glances up, meeting Draco’s eyes, and Draco catches his breath. The boy he loves, the memories of kisses and rooftops and fireplaces is gone, replaced with the unwavering eyes of his family’s enemy. “Why did I think  _we_  would be any different?”

Then Harry turns, walking away, and all Draco can do is stand there and watch as the Boy he Loves disappeared into the snow.

On the day Draco was tortured for Harry, he was back at home.

There were 50 of them, all in a circle, on the immaculate floor of his home. He sees the hooded cloaks and the silver masks, and he shivers, because what the hell did he get himself into? Fear pounds in his stomach, fear for himself and for his family, because he knew Voldemort was coming and Harry was gone.

He couldn’t regret it, though, not when he knew Harry would survive, would live to see another day. It was a split second, a glimpse. He had run down into the cellar, wand out, to see Dobby, there in the dirty cellar. He could have screamed, could have called out for someone, could have stunned them, but he waited and watched as Dobby grabbed Harry’s elbow, and disappeared with a crack. He remembered the look on Harry’s face, defiant and pleading and so, so beautiful, and Draco let them go.

_We’re paying the price now,_  he thinks, and he feels his heart clench in his chest. He closes his eyes, willing that mask of indifference and marble to slam down over his face, because Voldemort was coming and he could not give Harry away.

The next thing he knows, his mother is in the middle of the circle. She’s on her knees, her blond hair spilling over her shoulders and onto the dusty floor, tears rolling down her eyes as she pleaded to the figure in robes in front of her. “My lord, I am so sorry, please forgive me, I am so sorry - “

“Relax, Narcissa.” The voice is so, so cold, a knife’s edge on a freezing day, and it cut through her sobs effortlessly. Draco catches a glimpse, of hooded eyes and pale skin, and he forces himself to look away. “This is the third time you have let Harry Potter slip through your fingers. Where. Is. He?” Each word was accompanied with a sharp bang, and Draco sucks in a breath as he hears his mother scream. “Please, my lord, I do not know! They disappeared without a trace! Please, spare me, my lord, spare me, I do not know!”

He hears the banging stop, his mother’s sobs calming as Voldemort laughs. “Very well, Narcissa. You make a compelling argument. Get up.”

His mother rises to her feet. “Thank you, oh thank you, my lord, I shall not fail you - “

He feels the laughter echo through his body, as that cold voice speaks again. “I shall spare you, Narcissa. Where’s your son? Draco, wasn’t it? He shall take your place.”

He hears Narcissa scream, her voice cracking as she pants, “Please, not Draco, take me instead, please not Draco!”

Dimly, he feels a hand shove him to the centre of the room, and he stumbles forwards. He barely hears the laughter around him, barely hears the screams of his mother. His heart pounds, filling his mind with his heartbeat, and he clenched his jaw, because he will not scream, he  _will not fucking scream._

He sees the wand being raised, hears the spell being cast, and he suddenly remembers a conversation with Harry, so long ago.

_What did it feel like_ , he asked,  _when He used Crucio on you?_

Harry had shrugged, his eyes becoming distant.  _It hurt. Like hell. It was like…like your body was being ripped apart, and your bones were cracking. It was like you were boiling, every inch of you burning._

And as the pain hit, Draco closes his eyes, releasing that small, choked noise at the back of his throat and prays that Harry made it through alive.

On the day Draco killed for Harry, he was determined.

It was the battle of Hogwarts, death eaters battling students, as Draco throws himself into the fray. There are hundreds of Death Eaters, huge cloaks and silver masks, and Draco fights, because he knows that if he doesn’t, his friends will die. He shoots spell after spell, curse after curse, yelling the words until they become ash in his mouth. He knows that behind those masks are people he knows, his parents or his uncles or his cousins, but he keeps fighting anyways. He feels the cuts on his body burn, feels the exhaustion coursing through his blood, yet he ignores the pain, keeps fighting. He shoves another student aside, blocking the curse with his wand and keeps moving, because he needs to find Harry, and he can’t die without looking into Harry Potter’s green eyes one last time.

He sees Harry after a while, fighting with another Death Eater. They both move, spinning and slashing and swirling, and out of the corner of his eye, Draco sees another person aiming at Harry. He barely thinks, barely hesitates, just point his wand and aims. The spell that shoots out of his wand is dark green, and he watches the Death Eater crumple to the ground.

He’s just killed a person, just ended a life, and he knows he should be shell-shocked, but he isn’t. He glances at Harry, at the boy he loves, and his heart aches for a moment before he pulls himself back together and rejoins the fight.

On the day he kisses Harry again, it’s 8th year.

Nearly all of them returned, to the hollowed out shell of Hogwarts, and Draco feels that familiar numbness in his body as he stares at the towers of the castle that used to be his home. Everywhere he looks, he sees signs of the battle, in the cracks in the walls, in the broken doors and the scorch marks. The common rooms are mostly destroyed, so they all sleep in the Great Hall, watching the stars float across the enchanted ceiling.

Sometimes, he lay on his side, watching Harry sleep across the hall. He never talked to Harry, never approached him, but deep down, Draco still loved him. He let it go though, because Harry deserved to be happy, even if it killed Draco in the process. He saw the nightmares though, saw Harry wake up crying, and Draco’s heart ached.

It was another day, crisp fall, when Draco first talks to Harry. He saw Harry, outside behind the greenhouse, staring at a spot on the wall. Draco smiled slightly, remembering that first kiss, and he sighs. He approaches slowly, scared of hurting Harry, as he whispers, “Hey, Harry.”

Harry turns with a jolt, one hand sliding to his wand, and Draco closes his eyes.  _Scars_ , he thinks, because they both had them, even if no one could see them.

It’s dizzying, being this close to Harry. It’s been so long, 2 years of hiding what he felt, and now they were standing, so close to each other, in that same place where it all began.

Harry lets out a long breath. “Hey. Draco.”

Draco stands there, next to Harry, one hand brushing over the cool stone. He glances at Harry out of the corner of his eye, notching how Harry flushed and looked down. “Did…did it matter, Harry? Was any of it real?”

Harry’s voice is hoarse. “It was all real. Every last minute of it.”

Draco nods, swallowing. “D-did…did you regret it?”

Harry meets Draco’s gaze. “None of it.”

Draco nods, turning away. “Look, Harry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” He exhales. “Just…good luck, Harry. I hope… I hope you find someone else, somewhere. Someone better. Someone who deserves you.”

Draco takes a step, about to walk away for the last time when he feels a hand on his elbow. He turns around, sees Harry, one hand clutching onto his arm. Draco’s breath catches in his throat, and that’s all the encouragement Harry needs because suddenly they’re kissing again. And it’s sunlight and dusk, the feeling of warm air on your face. It’s clean air and cool water, two boys kissing once again, and Draco runs his hands over Harry’s body. He feels Harry’s hands, skimming over his back, over the scars and the wounds and the hollows of flesh, and Draco is falling, because it’s been so long and he’s never stopped loving Harry Potter, not really. And they stand there, kissing, promises of old stories and new beginnings, both of them finally, finally free.

 

 


	15. Some head canons

  * Draco wearing Harry’s sweaters
  * especially after a shower
  * Harry seeing Draco in his sweater with wet hair and just *losing his damn mind*
  * soft butterfly kisses in the neck
  * Harry burying his cold face in Draco’s scarf on cold winter days
  * Harry watching Draco read
  * and ending up making out
  * holding hands during classes
  * Draco sending notes to Harry every day




	16. Stormy days

  * harry has always been afraid of storms
  * after all of his lonely nights in the cupboard, clutching the thin blanket covering his body, it was safe to say that harry was no less than traumatized
  * draco, on the other hand, loved storms
  * he would run out into the rain and jump and dance and have the best  _fucking_  time that he’d have in a while
  * so let’s recall the first night draco and harry spent together
  * it was nothing less than magical
  * draco and harry were tangled together in draco’s king-sized bed and slept  _soundly_  for the first time in many months
  * so harry found it really inconvenient that it started storming in the middle of night, and every clap of thunder and strike of lightning sent shivers down harry’s spine
  * he simply could not fall asleep with the storm raging on, and despite how lovely draco’s arms felt around him, he had to stand up and walk around; he needed to  _ground himself_
  * draco, of course, wakes up
  * “harry, what’s wrong?”
  * harry nearly swooned from the sleepy tone draco’s voice had taken and draco’s perfectly messy hair
  * perhaps harry would have even dared running his fingers through the white-blond hair, but the fact that it was storming was taking most of his attention
  * “nothing’s wrong, draco. go back to bed”
  * harry wondered whether draco would have been convinced and have gone back to bed if lightning hadn’t flashed at that exact moment
  * and harry obviously crumpled in within himself, falling onto his knees and hiding his face in his hands
  * obviously draco notices this
  * draco crawls and wraps his arms around harry, whispering softly in his ear
  * “love, it’s alright”
  * _love_  
  * merlin, harry really  ~~loved~~  liked draco malfoy
  * “sorry, draco—”
  * “shhh, no need to apologize”
  * “but—”
  * “there’s no need to anything explain to me without a hot cup of tea in your hands, unless you prefer coffee?”
  * so harry nodded 
  * “tea would be lovely, thank you draco”
  * and draco gently pulled harry to his feet and, hand and hand, walked to the kitchen
  * draco didn’t let harry utter a single word until there was a steaming cup of earl grey in harry’s hands
  * and so harry explained
  * about the cupboard under the stairs and the dursleys and his fear of storms
  * by the end of it, draco was seething
  * harry had to take several minutes to assure draco that the past should stay in the past and that there was no longer anything any of them could do
  * but  ~~obviously~~  our bb draco malfoy was still absolutely furious
  * at this precise moment, thunder decides to boom
  * and harry nearly  _whimpers_
  * draco was immediately at harry’s side, comforting him
  * “we’ll get through this together, harry”
  * and harry believes him
  * and thanks him
  * “anything for you, harry, anything for you”




	17. Head Canon

Just all over the idea that their first date is Harry taking Draco to see Dobby’s grave.

There’s crying by both of them and when they finally calm down they head up to the cottage where Fleur hosts them for coffee and macarons.

Victoire covers Draco in crumbs, making all of them laugh and breaking the ice.

When Bill gets home from work there’s more emotion as Draco apologises (yet again) for accidentally allowing Greyback into Hogwarts.

They stay for dinner.

Bill and Fleur stand with them when Harry takes Draco to Weasley dinner for the first time. Ginny snorts and says “Finally”, Ron sulks for 2 hours before challenging Draco to chess (it’s an exciting, close fought game that sees Ron finally, finally shaking hands with the ferret)

Two years later they have a standing dinner date every couple of months at Bill and Fleur’s. They also have regular playdates for Teddy with Victoire and are Dominique’s godfathers.

The weekly post Weasley dinner chess match of Weasel Vs Ferret is avidly watched by the rest while heavily betting babysitting time against each other.


	18. Proposal head canon

  * Draco was the one who proposed.
  * It was Harry’s birthday, and they were having a party at the Burrow. Nothing fancy; Harry didn’t like fuss. It was mostly family, although that was quite a few people these days. 
  * Draco had asked for Arthur and Molly’s blessing weeks before since they were, in effect, Harry’s parents. He knew Harry would think it was silly, but he wanted to do the thing properly. 
  * He’d had a terrible time figuring out Harry’s ring size without him catching on.
  * In the end, he’d just checked while Harry was asleep, and it was no easy feat, but he’d managed.
  * Obviously, it wasn’t a complete surprise to Harry; they’d talked about getting married before, and they had agreed that when they thought about their future, it was hard to imagine any of it without thinking of them as a pair, a team, a permanent couple.
  * ~~Also Harry was definitely awake while Draco was trying to measure his left ring finger so it wasn’t a difficult leap.~~
  * So, there they were, on Harry’s 23rd birthday, sitting around a table together outside of the Burrow. 
  * Harry’s policy for birthdays was always food first, then presents “if you must.”
  * “I’m just here for the company and Molly’s cake,” he always said. 
  * It was a fantastic cake that year, by the way. It always was, but this year it seemed like it was particularly good for some reason. 
  * And everyone was feeling pleasantly warm and full when Draco stood up and said, “Well, let’s get on with the gifts then, shall we?”
  * “Oh, what’ve you done this year?” Harry groaned. “I told you, we don’t need any vacation homes in Monaco– Ron, what’re you on about?”
  * Ron was laughing so hard he’d managed to snort pumpkin juice through his nose, and Hermione was thumping him on the back in a manner that suggested she partly wanted to keep him from choking and partly wanted him to shut up.
  * “Harry?”
  * When Harry looked round again, Draco was on one knee, and the whole garden had gone quiet except for the sounds of the chirping crickets, the odd swearing garden gnome, and Ron blowing his nose in the tablecloth.
  * And for a long moment, Harry was silent too.
  * Finally, Draco said, “Well?”
  * “What, you haven’t got a speech prepared?”
  * “I, er– no, actually, I didn’t think I’d need one.”
  * “Yes.”
  * “I mean, if you want, I can still do one, I just sort of assumed I wouldn’t be able to get a word in edgewise–”
  * “I said yes.”
  * “It’s no trouble, really, I just don’t know where I should start. Probably not with you arse, there’s children present, er–”
  * _“Draco.”_
  * “What?”
  * “I’ve said yes, now give me the damn ring and kiss me already.”
  * And Draco did just that.
  * They spent the following months remodeling Grimmauld Place thoroughly, disposing of the elf heads once and for all. It was updated with happier colors, far less mold, better plumbing, and some other Muggle contraptions that Draco pretended to be indignant over. 
  * The wedding plans fell to Narcissa and Molly, since Harry would’ve married Draco in Borgin and Burke’s if he’d asked.
  * Obviously, Draco had tried.
  * After he spent three days following Harry around the house and holding fabric swatches up to his face to see which colors would complement his complexion the best, he was banned from all wedding organization. 
  * All they did was set a date: May 2nd. 
  * Harry’s reasoning was that it was always such a difficult time of year for the community. He thought it might be nice to have something to look forward to, and maybe the press hounding them for interviews about their wedding would give people something to look forward to besides reliving the pain and grief of the war. 
  * They also came to the agreement that they couldn’t be arsed to have a traditional wedding. 
  * They got married in Godric’s Hollow, but they couldn’t cram everyone into the tiny chapel, so they made use of a large field and set up the big tent that they’d used for Bill and Fleur’s wedding years ago. 
  * Hermione, as a member of the Wizengamot (the youngest in history), presided over the ceremony. 
  * Ron was Harry’s best man, along with George, Neville, Ginny, and Luna. 
  * They all wore green dress robes and bowties (Luna used hers to tie back her hair). 
  * Draco’s groomsmen were Goyle and Blaise; Pansy demanded the title of Maid of Honor, and she assisted quite a bit with the planning as well, including a joint stag night for Harry and Draco that nobody remembers to this day. 
  * They all wore gold dress robes.
  * Teddy was six and couldn’t be trusted not to put the rings in his mouth (eating things that weren’t food was something he still hadn’t quite grown out of), and he preferred to be the flower boy anyway, so he wore a flower crown and threw handfuls of rose petals at various people as he walked down the aisle. 
  * Victoire, who was more responsible even though she was only five, was the ring bearer.
  * She ran out after Teddy when she saw him throwing rose petals at people. 
  * “Teddy, stop it! Granny said you’re meant to do it  _nice_.”
  * “I  _am_  doing it nice.”
  * “Are not!”
  * “Am so.” 
  * Tori dumped the rose petals on his head and asked him how he liked it.
  * Teddy wore the basket they’d been in as a hat and said he liked it very much, thanks, Tori.
  * After that everything went smoothly. 
  * It was a beautiful ceremony. Everyone cried. 
  * Harry and Draco both broke down while exchanging vows and Teddy and Tori were both very concerned.
  * Their solution was for Teddy to wrap himself around Harry’s leg and Tori to do likewise with Draco’s. It made sense at the time. 
  * The reception was brilliant, too. George and Ron did fireworks. 
  * Harry and Draco’s first dance song was “Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You” by Frankie Valli and it was great, especially because they’re both terrible dancers. 
  * Harry threw a bouquet and Ron caught it. He achieved a shade of purple that was previously unrecorded and tried to hand it off to Ginny, who was laughing too hard to take it from him. 
  * A good time was had by all.




	19. Paris

  * Draco spent half his childhood in Paris and is practically a Parisian
  * Harry has never been to Paris before (he’s never been much of anywhere before)
  * It’s their first weekend away after they start dating
  * Harry instantly falls in love with the city
  * Draco falls in love with the city all over again, seeing it through Harry’s eyes
  * tbh he falls in love with Harry even more (if that’s even possible) as he watches him admire the city, an awed look on his face
  * Harry wants to do asaaaallll the touristy things and Draco scoffs at him (while totally indulging him and even taking him to the top of the freaking Eiffel Tower)
  * Draco makes fun of Harry’s childlike enthusiasm but is secretly incredibly touched
  * They kiss A LOT
  * They make it a game
  * _‘Malfoy rule’,_  Draco explains
  * Walk past a boulangerie: one kiss
  * Spot the Eiffel Tower: two kisses
  * Cross a bridge: three kisses
  * They cross  _a lot_  of bridges
  * They kiss  _everywhere_
  * They kiss in front of monuments
  * They kiss in the middle of the Saturday shopping crowds in front of the Galeries Lafayette (everybody scowls at them but they just. Don’t. Care.)
  * They’re very much in love
  * Harry wolfs down ten Ladurée macarons in one sitting
  * Draco mutters, ‘ _manners, Potter,’_  and daintily nibbles at his own rose pastry
  * At the end of the weekend, as they wait for their Portkey back to London, Harry wraps his arms around Draco’s shoulders
  * _Merci, mon amour,_  he tells him with the worst accent Draco’s ever heard
  * _Potter, I’m signing you up for French lessons,_  Draco rolls his eyes while blushing furiously
  * Harry books Portkey tickets to Paris again first chance he gets
  * _There’s a bridge where we haven’t kissed on yet,_  is all the explanation Draco really needs



 

 


	20. Mpreg head canon

Draco found out he was pregnant two weeks after they got married.

• He was not as happy as he should’ve been because he’d just started work at St.Mungos, Harry was psyched as he’d always wanted a family.

• Harry tried to do that naming the child after someone else bullshit with Draco but he wasn’t having it. Draco wanted his kids to have their own individual name.

•They didn’t want to know the gender of the first child preferring it to be a surprise.

•When Draco went in labor he was surprisingly calm because as a Healer he’d seen many people give birth and knew the procedures, Harry had a panic attack and needed The Weasleys to physically restrain him.

•When it came to the actual birth, Draco made sure Harry knew that his prick was the reason why he’d never fit into his jeans anymore.

•They’re first child was a girl. She had inherited Draco’s blonde hair and had a pair of grey-greenish eyes . Only thing she inherited from Harry was his dark skin.

•Her name was Cassiopeia Dahlia Potter-Malfoy. Harry prefers to calls her Cassy.

•They has their next child when Cassy was 6, this time they decide to check the gender.

•But much to their surprise, and Draco’s dismay they seemed to be having twins. Both were boys.

• For twins, both boys looked nothing alike, one took majority of Harry’s traits and the other took Draco’s. Only contradicting in eye color.

•The one with Draco’s traits was called Castor Draconis Potter-Malfoy and the one one that looked like Harry was called Pollux Harry Potter-Malfoy.

•They had one more child, the twins were 4 by this time Cassy was 10.

•A little girl with surprisingly, red hair and grey eyes. Lucius had a heart attack when he heard the news of a ginger Malfoy.

•He once joked that hair dye was always an option, but neither Draco or Narcissa were entertained.

•To Harry’s surprise, Draco called her Lilith Narcissus Potter-Malfoy. As both Mothers deserved that much.

•Not one child was in the same House.

•Cassiopeia was a Gryffindor.

•Castor was a Ravenclaw.

•Pollux was a Hufflepuff.

• And Lilith was a Slytherin.

•Draco made them all do chores as to gain “house points” and the house with the most points gets to choose a family outing.

•Draco likes to complain about how each child birth destroyed his hips but he really would not have it any other way.

• Teddy sometimes feels not part of the family but Harry & Draco to like whisper to him that he’s is their favorite child because their own kids can be fuck heads, while Teddy has common sense.


	21. Domestic drarry

  * As far as Draco is concerned, Harry is the bravest wizard he’d every met. I mean, he knows how to get the “mic-row-wave” to stop its annoying beeping sound, he never flinches when the “tO-aSTEr” pops out bread, he even laughs at those dreadful muggle pictures that make the most terrifying of creatures pop out of nowhere. Voldemort never stood a chance.
  * Harry knows Draco thinks like this whenever Harry has to help him use any muggle item and at this point he’s given up explaining why his ability to work a vacuum cleaner is not why he defeated Voldemort.
  * Draco got his first Weasley sweater when Harry got tired of him stealing his, jokes on Harry now Draco has  **two** warm sweaters.
  * When Draco became a Healer and Harry became an Auror, Draco held his breath everytime a co-worker told him his boyfriend was at his workplace because it’s either Harry decided to visit him or Harry managed to get himself injured.
  * Majority of the time it’s the last one.
  * Both Harry & Draco agreed that evey Sunday they’d visit one of their respected family. Draco has to survive an entire evening surrounded by Weasleys while Harry has to handle a stuffy dinner with the Malfoys.
  * When going to Gala’s and Charity Ball’s Harry prefers to wear tuxes and muggle suits while Draco has to have a wizardry robe specifically made each time.
  * Harry makes fun of Draco for still wearing wizard robes but secretly enjoys how the material clings to his body.
  * They have lots of pets, a white cat called Princess, two dogs: one is black and called Sirius and the other one is brown and called Remus, A white snake called Hedwig and much to Draco’s dismay, a ferret called Baguette.
  * Teddy is practically their son and lives in their house.
  * Teddy gave Draco a card on Mother’s Day because he always nags him and Harry like a mother.
  * Draco was pissed at the reasoning but still stuck it onto the refrigerator.
  * Harry forces Draco to go jogging and hiking but always ends up having to carry Draco back home because “Potter, Malfoy’s do not run, nonetheless sweat!”
  * Harry likes to hide Draco’s hair gel just to see his hair fluffy and ruffled in the morning.




	22. Head Canons

• Eighth year headcanon where mcgonagall tells harry and draco to stop calling each other by their last names to promote house unity, so they instead start calling each other the cheesiest pet names ever, and everyone assumes they’re dating


	23. Message

I really need some comments from you guys. It’s what keeps me going, especially now. I need some stuff to go on. Love you all. Thank you so much for being there and loving what I write. I’ll keeo going, but I do *beg* for Kudos and Comments!!!!! 

 

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️


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